


Crocus

by WatteauYouDoing



Series: Our Wishes [2]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Flowers, Pining, depression and anxiety, just a one shot about him being sweet, shane is In Love but says nothing about it, though tbh a shane fic should just have those tags added automatically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatteauYouDoing/pseuds/WatteauYouDoing
Summary: The farmer is gloomy in the winter, and Shane sets himself to the task of doing something about it.





	Crocus

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in a fervent, Stardew Valley fueled burst, please don't judge me too much.

The farmer was sad today, and for the first time in recent recollection, Shane actually cared about someone else’s feelings.

It was an odd sort of role-reversal, seeing her sit at the saloon and staring absently out at the snow-drenched world beyond the window. A torrent of soft, fluffy flakes billowed around the lonely iron lamps illuminating the street, and she chewed her lip as she watched them, her chin supported by the back of her large hand. Shane sat across from her, as he’d taken to doing when she came here to eat. They usually spent time together in silence, which suited him just fine, and with Bear, the quiet felt less… crippling.

Bear. She really did fit her namesake, a woman who could probably overpower any man in the Valley with her prominently muscled arms and her, quite frankly, terrifyingly tall build.  Even Clint, the local blacksmith, would have a hell of a time trying to beat her one-on-one.

Thinking about it, Shane kind of wanted to see him try.

The candlelight cast a warm glow on her dark features, cutting shadows around her eyes and in the crook of her crooked nose. Her hair was short, messy, and brown, and her eyes were as warm as the fire’s light as her gaze lingered on the cool landscape behind the frosted glass. Shane caught himself staring, and looked away hurriedly before she could even begin to notice.

Not that she ever would. Bear was quiet, reserved, and profoundly clueless. She was trapped in the mire of her own self-doubt, just like Shane himself, and that was probably why he was so comfortable around her. Because she got it. Because she understood.

Because people judged her just like they judged him, although in her case, it was because she was six-foot-five and looked like she could chuck a cow over a river.  Which was a comical misinterpretation of her character, honestly, because Bear was gentlest woman he’d ever met.

She was a woman who loved flowers, and today she was sad because she missed them so very much.

She’d been sighing all winter, depression ebbing into her features since the first snow-fall of October. At first, Shane had attributed it to a lack of work – he knew his own personal demons only got louder when there was nothing to occupy him, nothing to help suppress them and bury them under a layer of drugery. He knew she didn’t have much to do this season, when her fields were blanketed by a thick layer of white, though he also knew that she spent much of her extra time with her animals. She was a gentle-hearted girl, and there was a reason she and his aunt were such fast friends. Bear loved animals, as did Marnie, and if that hadn’t been true, Shane probably never would have become accustomed to her presence.

Never would have become her friend.

Never would have –

…Well.

Shane drank, and tried his best not to think about it.

He didn’t know what to do, really. Bear _had_ flowers in her home, a million potted plants hanging off of every surface of her cozy farmhouse. She’d told him they helped, but it wasn’t anything like being immersed in the throes of spring. It wasn’t like seeing the flowers blooming on every surface, crawling up trellises and spreading across the ground in a thick carpet of color. It wasn’t like being _alive,_ it was just like… slumbering, like patching over a lonely crevasse with a cheap facsimile of happiness.

Shane supposed he understood, in a way. He did it with alcohol, Bear did it with flowers. He might not have been able to understand _why_ they affected her so profoundly, but he supposed he didn’t have to.

He just needed to care that it did. And weirdly enough? _He cared so much._

Bear was kind. Not like Penny’s kindness – a constant smile, a gentle hand – nor like Marnie’s kindness, a meddlesome sort of well-wishing that had her trying to encourage two very broken people to grow. Hers was a solid sort of kindness, a steady sort of kindness, making her the kind of person who picked his drunk ass up, endured him sobbing on her shoulder, and then cleaned him up after he vomited all over her shoes. She was unrelenting, unshakable, completely unwarranted and yet, somehow still, her never-ending generosity caused her to bring lunch to him every day, made her sit up with him when he was having one of his _"nights",_ and had her keeping watch over him at two in the morning to make sure he didn’t choke on his own bile.

He didn’t deserve Bear.

He didn’t deserve the fact that she cared.

He still didn’t understand _why_ she cared, exactly, considering that he'd gone the nuclear route during their first meeting and told her to fuck off forever, though he could understand that it was all, ultimately, tied to Jas.

Jas was also a girl who loved flowers, and so obviously, she and Bear became very fond of each other. It was surreal that circumstances had ended up inspiring her to feel fond of Shane as well, but maybe that was just the pity.

Maybe –

“Hey, Bear?” Shane spoke, suddenly cutting off the ugly buzz of his thoughts. She looked at him, and he had no idea what to say, really, because he hadn’t really been meaning to say anything at all. He had no plan, and while normally this would be terrifying, it wasn’t with Bear, because she understood what that resulting silence meant.

She stood slowly, leaving her plate behind, and tilted her head towards the arcade machine in the other room. “I have some quarters. Let’s go.”

Shane kind of hated himself in that moment. Bear hadn’t grown up playing video games. She was bad at them, didn’t understand them, and was frustrated when she died over and over. And yet she played with him because she knew it kept his mind off things, and she knew it made him feel good to be _good_ at something.

But – she was the one feeling badly right now, so –

Yoba, hadn’t he meant to figure out a way to cheer _her_ up?

“Wait!” he stopped her, and she turned around, her big, fuzzy eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Wait, uh, maybe we should…”

He scrambled, trying to think of something that would be for _her_ instead of for _him._ Crap, what did she enjoy? Breaking rocks in the mine? It was way too late for that, and that wasn’t _fun_ for her, really, she did it because she had to. Cooking? Uh, uh, what could they cook? Where could they cook? Shit, did Shane even know how to cook? She’d just end up babying him like always. Exploring? No, that’d just make her even more depressed, and –

Maybe it was because of the panic on his face, or maybe it was just out of a general sort of sympathy, but Bear took a step forward and placed a single hand on his shoulder. He felt so small in comparison.

“’S okay. Maybe we can get past the forest this time? We’ve gotten pretty close before.”

“You’ve… been getting a lot better,” Shane replied, trying not to think of how warm her hand felt even through the fabric of his shirt. “And the cowboy isn’t that hard, once you figure out his attack pattern. The real pain is the graveyard, and – uhh…”

He trailed off, looking up at her. “Are you sure? We can do something else. Seriously. There’s gotta be _something_  that we'd both enjoy, even on a shitty, snowy Thursday night.”

She squeezed his shoulder with a light touch and said, quite softly, "I enjoy playing games with you.

Well.

That sure.

That sure was a thing.

“Right,” he replied, trying to keep his voice level. He was only marginally successful.

Bear didn’t seem to notice, giving him a quick pat before turning to walk off. He grabbed his drink and started following her, hoping that the heat he felt on his face hadn’t translated into too obvious of a blush.

Apparently it had, because from the corner of his eye, he saw Emily giving him a wink and a thumbs-up.

 _“Ugh,”_ he grunted, and tried to focus on something other than his desire to drink himself into oblivion.

 

* * *

 

The farmer was sad again today, and Shane scuffed the ground with his shoe as he mulled over the problem on his walk home from work.

She was always quiet when she came to visit him on the clock, just offering him a lunch-box and some well-wishes before turning to go. He knew she hated being in Joja. Knew it dredged up horrible memories from the pits of her past, and hell, he didn’t blame her, _he_ hated being in the goddman supermarket, stocking shelves and regretting all of his life choices. Still, there was… a resignation to her today, and before she’d gone, he’d grabbed her by the sleeve and said something that he hardly ever did to anyone, _ever._

“Are – are you okay?”

She’d turned to him, looking at him from over her shoulder, and then sighed once more – a lonely sound that he was becoming far-too accustomed to. Bear was the opposite of lively and vivacious, but this was different.

Today, something in her eyes seemed dead.

“…I’ll be fine. ‘S just gonna be like this until spring.”

Shane’s mouth twisted, and he gave the aisles a furtive glance before stepping closer to her. No manager in sight. Good. “Are you always this miserable when it’s winter? Maybe you should go see Harvey. He…”

There was a pause from Shane, and he looked at the ground. “It’s what you told me to do, after all. This really doesn’t sound normal.”

She snorted softly before shaking her head.  “I don’t think that’ll help.”

“But – “

She held up a hand, halting him with her palm. “It’s been like this since I was a kid. I always survive. I always go on. So don’t worry, Shane. Just…”

She looked away, back towards the door. “Just focus on yourself. It really is stupid. I mean… who’s upset because it’s _cold_ outside?”

“No!” he said emphatically, the force of it surprising even him. “No, you shouldn’t spend an entire season being miserable. You deserve to be happy! I mean…”

He looked at his shoes, still not letting go of her but still not able to look at her, either. “…You said the same to me, right? It’d be hypocritical for me not to care that you’re bummed or, y’know. Whatever. It doesn’t matter why you’re upset. It just matters that you are. Is there… something else, though? Does…”

He struggled. “Does winter remind you of something?”

She paused. Shane prayed Morris would leave him alone for just five minutes, please, this was important.

“It just…” her voice sounded so fragile. So weak. He wasn’t used to that. “It just makes me feel like I’m not really here. Like I’m lost in a world of white, like there’s nowhere to go but... down, I guess.”

With a vague gesture, she indicated the pristinely glistening aisles that stretched on endlessly around them. “It’s how I feel when I’m here, but never-ending.  _Forever._ Like… nothing will ever grow again. I know that’s not true, but- “

She stopped, miserable, and he looked up at her face. Bear was terrible at expressing herself, but right now, the misery in her was plain to see.

“But it’s just how it feels,” Shane continued for her, and Bear nodded.

He breathed out, releasing her and trying to smile, through it looked shitty and awful on his haggard, shadowed face. “It’s okay, Bear. I get it. And it’s not stupid. Uhh, after I get off work, let’s – let’s hang out at your place. We can make cookies or whatever. I… can bring Jas?”

His voice turned tentative, but he knew that spending time with his goddaughter always cheered Bear up. She relaxed marginally, nodded, and he let her go, bidding her to escape the supermarket that had held him captive and drained him dry for so long.

It was too much for her to be there. _He understood._

Still – he thought, listening to the crunch of snow underneath his boots as he made his way to pick Jas up. Something about what Bear had said seemed… _wrong._ Like, she’d lost sight of something in the snow. To her, flowers were her world. The _light_ in her world. Her happiness, but he couldn't believe that there was a time of the year when happiness was totally unavailable to her.

It didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem right.

And… it just didn’t seem _true._

A time when everything was dead? No. Breathing out a cloud of steamy white, he looked up at the dimming sky, sticking his hands in his pockets and shivering. Yeah, winter was shit, but that didn’t mean you had to spend it feeling like shit, right? There were things worth having. Things worth preserving. Things worth living for and being happy about.

Her being sad… shouldn’t be the way it _had_ to be.

But how could he show her that?

How could he –

Shane stopped, the sound of a twig breaking underneath his foot causing him to look down, and he saw it.

Bursting out of the snow, there was a small collection of small, purple blossoms wavering above the glimmering white.

Shane stared. Distantly, he remembered his mother telling him about a kind of mountain flower that could grow even in the winter, and on pure impulse, he turned and ran across the bridge dividing the river. Evelyn lived just beyond, didn’t she? Evelyn, the town gardener, the woman who would assuredly, even in the coldest season of the year, have soil and pots and things to dig in the earth with.

Carried by his impulse, Shane knocked on her door, paused, then knocked again. He hated talking to people, hated even looking at most people, but he needed to do this right now.

For Bear? He could get over his hangups.

 

* * *

 

He ran to her house, not even stopping to pick up Jas on the way. Maybe it was nerves, maybe it was excitement, maybe it was because he was afraid that the words he wanted to tell her would slip away as soon as he let himself rest. He had something to say, something that he desperately wanted her to hear... and he had to convey it, even if it ran him ragged.

Shane wasn’t the kind of guy who was good at words, but hell, Bear was pretty shit at them too. He told himself it’d be fine.

He knocked on her door, a quick few raps that he drummed out before he’d even caught his breath. It was later now, grimmer and gloomier, but light poured out of the windows of Bear’s home, casting a warm glow over the grey-blue snow. He stood there, hands numb and cold, shaking from more than just winter’s chill.

Evelyn had offered him some gloves, but he’d refused. They hadn’t been his size anyway.

Bear opened the door, squinting at the man who was standing on her welcome mat. He could smell something sweet beyond, but right now he was just focused on her silhouette, because if he let himself stray from the feelings thrumming in his chest, he’d forget them all and lose them, like glass shards scattering across a tiled floor.

“...Shane?” she asked, clearly worried as he panted, and he took a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself.

“I was, uh. I was walking home from work, and I saw this. I thought you might like to see it.”

He lifted them up so she could see them, the small flowers sprouting out of the soil Evelyn had so kindly lent him. The pot was made out of cherry-red terra-cotta clay, which contrasted with the small, delicate purple blossoms opened up for Bear’s inspection. She leaned forward, surprised, her breath misting over the flowers. They’d been growing in a patch, and he’d gathered them all up with a careful, tentative hand and transferred them with Evelyn’s guidance. She’d told him how to dig, how to get all the roots so he wouldn’t harm the plants themselves, and she’d showed him how to bury them gently in the dirt she’d provided.

“They’re beautiful,” Bear murmured, reaching up and touching one of the pale-lilac petals with the flat of her thumb. She always had this ginger way about her when she touched plants, and it always broke his heart, because he knew how much she never wanted to hurt anything. “Where did you find them?”

“By the river. I thought of you as soon as I saw them growing, and I knew I had to…” He swallowed, and then took a deep breath, preparing himself for the speech he’d been rehearsing over and over again in his head on the run over.

“I thought a lot about what you said, and uh, I’ve felt a lot like that too. Like I’m not really here, like everything is awful, like – well, nothing is ever going to grow again. I’ve felt like rotten, gross garbage, and while winter doesn’t really trigger it, I can imagine why it would for you. I’ve felt like that so often, and honestly, before I met you? It was basically all my life amounted to. A shitty, endless snow. But… then you taught me something.”

“You taught me that I can _do_ things. You taught me that I could be happy. You taught me that I didn’t have to be drunk to have fun, you taught me that doing things with other people can be worth it, and you taught me that I can _live_. Bear, you taught me how beautiful flowers can be, and while that hardly fixed everything wrong in my life, it sure as fuck helped.”

“You’re not – dead,” he said, shivering on the doorstep with his hands ringed around the small pot. “And you were right before when you said you’d be fine in the end. B-but, uh, you don’t – don’t ever feel like you have to be _not fine_ alone, okay? I’m uh, I’m here. And…”

He looked down at the flower wavering slightly in the chilly breeze. “And I might be small, and shitty, but I... care about you, so uh, please remember that trying to be happy is worth it, alright? Things still grow in the winter-time. Things don't have to be total crap.”

There was a pause, and Shane finally took the time to take in Bear’s expression. Her eyes were wide, and she had one hand on the door-frame, keeping her steady as she looked down at him. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again… and Shane’s fingers thrummed anxiously on his “gift” as she awaited whatever it is she was going to say.

In the end, though, she didn’t say anything.

Shane wasn’t used to being hugged, especially by people that could probably break his spine in half. So when Bear wrapped her arms around him, pulling his cheek close to her chest, his limbs turned to frost as a sharp, prickling blush spread across his face. He could feel her breath on the top of his head, could smell the winter work on her clothes... the flour and meat and the lingering scents of animals still clinging to her shirt. His heart hammered in his chest, drumming against his rib-cage like that ratta-tat-tats of rain on an old tin roof.

It was dizzying, and he held the pot close to himself, cradling it like a child as she embraced him.

“Thank you, Shane,” she finally said, her voice wholly honest, heartfelt, and pure. “Thank you so, so very much.”

“You're... welcome,” Shane breathed, and for awhile, all he could hear was her heartbeat against his ear, steady and strong.

After an eternity, she pulled away, and – in a rare occurrence, much like a solar eclipse or northern lights in the summertime, she smiled. Shane stared, entranced, and didn’t even lower his hands when she took gently took the pot from him.

 “Let’s try to plant this. And... maybe tomorrow, we should go looking for some more?”

Shane nodded numbly, and he managed to smile in return.

The farmer was sad today, and she’d still be sad tomorrow as well, but Shane was like that too, wasn’t he? Despite that, he kept on living, and so would she. And, maybe – just maybe – they could both watch the crocuses grow together until spring came again.


End file.
